My Heart's Explosive
by AllzStar
Summary: He kisses me, and it's nirvana, it's a hot fudge sundae, it's mexican sand between my toes. He pushes my jeans down and it's a warm beer, a stale piece of bread, an itchy blanket. And then he leaves, and it's a plane crash. A broken heart. Crenny.
1. Can't Pay My Rent But I'm F'ing Gorgeous

**My Heart's Explosive**

_By AllzStar_

_Author's Note: If you have not heard the song "Semi-Precious Weapons" by the band Semi Precious Weapons, then you are missing out. Freaking listen to it. NOW. Thanks. :)_

_**Chapter One – I Can't Pay My Rent But I'm Fucking Gorgeous**_

The noise is deafening, grating on my eardrums, sending tremors throughout my entire body. I hoist myself up higher, the unused muscles in my elbows screaming in protest, open my mouth and yell right back at the metal monster careening on the track above me, its metal wheels carving sparks that fly off into the night and burn out like dead fireflies. My hair is almost straight on end as the wind from the beast above me kicks it up; my forehead, so used to being unexposed, is getting some unexpected light.

Finally, the noise dies, and the train skitters away, screeching and chugging along the trestle. My scream dies along with it, cutting off to a half-hearted whine. I let out a long breath and then suck it back in hungrily, my lungs crying out for air. I turn to the elf-like boy beside me, his smile revealing a sharp incisor and a crooked front tooth, his blond hair rumpled and tousled and standing out every which way. A nervous pat to my head tells me that my hair is in the same condition.

"You look like fucking wolverine." Kenny McCormick is grinning like the Cheshire Cat, even as he takes a long swig from his beer can, downing at least a third of it in a few gulps. He exhales sharply when he finishes and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and proceeds to wipe that on his already grubby jeans. The blond impish boy is my best friend and worst enemy. He's the biggest douche-bag in this town (other than me, of course), and has a rep for his tough love attitude.

But I've known him long enough that I can see through his tough exterior to his inner core, which, of course, isn't soft and pink, whatever some girls might think. But he's really smart and insightful. And he notices everything. And I mean everything. Like the fact that whenever I was in the locker room at school my eyes dipped only very slightly downward at the guys standing next to me.

I shrug and take a sip from my own beer. "Whatever. He's cool."

"I meant you look cool."

"Huh. Sounded like an insult."

"No, you just take everything that way."

I glare at him. "What's your problem, skid mark?"

"My problem is," Kenny declares, pushing up on his toes to peer above the trestle, "the next train doesn't come for another hour."

"Fuck." I remember the euphoric feeling of the train roaring above me as I scream right back at it, and sigh. "What are we gonna do for an hour?"

"Get fucking wasted," Kenny hoots, sipping his beer to prove his point.

I raise my eyebrow at him. "If we get any more drunk we won't be able to hold ourselves up when the train comes."

Kenny props his elbow on his knee, his ass resting in the crook of the wood architecture of the trestle. I look down at him from my perch a foot above him, swinging my feet absentmindedly. "Then they all fall down," Kenny singsongs off-key, twiddling his fingers back and forth.

I look down at where the supports for the trestle meet the river; at the churning black water waiting for us at the bottom. I shiver and pull my already damp hoodie around me tighter. It was a stupid idea to swim to the trestle instead of just taking a fucking canoe. When I voice this to Kenny, he shrugs and says: "We'll make it more interesting next time and skinny dip."

I blush. I turn away, trying desperately to hide it. But what did I tell you about Kenny noticing everything?

He smiles widely. "You wanna see my cock, Tucker?"

"No," I snap, "you can keep your three-inch in your pants, thanks very much."

He throws his lovely head back and laughs, his ash blond hair streaking elegantly from his head. "You'd love to know how long my dick actually is," he says, his brown eyes flashing dangerously, "wouldn't you, Tucker?"

"Nope. Don't care to."

"I bet you anything it's longer than yours."

"So what if it is?"

He laughs again, but it's a short barking laugh that's humourless. "It would piss you off so bad if my cock was longer than yours."

"No it wouldn't," I shrug. "I'm happy with my penis the way it is."

"Yeah, and that's why you're a virgin," Kenny says, tossing his empty beer can into the river below. It hits the water with a metallic _thwack. _

"I'm not a virgin," I sat casually. "You know that. You of all people should know that."

"What I walked in on was not you fucking. I don't even know what it was."

"My penis was inside her vagina."

"No, it wasn't."

"Okay, well maybe you missed it, then." I smile suddenly. "You were probably too bust looking at my cock to notice."

"Fuck you." Kenny's smile has vanished. "I couldn't see your dick."

"Right. Because it was inside her."

Kenny scoffs and cracks open his fourth beer. "Whatever. It doesn't count if you weren't into it."

"Who says I wasn't into it?" I ask, one eyebrow raised. "I came."

"So? Guys never fake it," Kenny says wisely. "And at your age, having sex for the first time could mean you'd fuck a stuffed animal and cum."

"I enjoyed it. Okay?"

"You'd enjoy it more if it was a dude, though, right?"

I glare at him and flip him off angrily. "Fuck you."

"No, you're right," Kenny says, sipping his beer. "You'd prefer it in the ass. I get it."

"I'm not a fag, asswipe. Lay off."

"You are," Kenny observes. "But it's okay. I won't tell anyone."

"I'm not gay!"

"Fuck you, you're not gay. You want to kiss me right now, don't you?"

"No, right now I want to push you into the river."

"Oh, hold on. Let me take my clothes off first."

I reach down, fist swinging. Kenny, with surprising agility, grabs my arm and pulls me down to his level. I almost fall clean off the support, my heart pumping wildly as I'm faced with the black death churning below me, but Kenny steadies me on the beam. His fingers curl around the scruff of my hoodie, pulling me close. His nose is almost touching mine.

"Now do you want to kiss me?"

I clamber for words, searching, raking, but none come. I swallow roughly and inhale, exhale, inhale, as his eyes mesh into one as he gets closer in closer.

And then he's kissing me.

He smells of ginger and vanilla and tobacco and beer, all mixing together to make a sickeningly sweet perfume that is strictly _Kenny. _His lips are rough and chapped, but I'm fucked if he's not a good kisser. His mouth moves easily over mine. My brain is frozen in time, trying to process what's happening here. Finally, it clicks.

And I freak out.

Sure, I've been dreaming about kissing Kenny McCormick for months now, but I never thought it would be like _this_.

My hands reach to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer to me. His hands go from my hoodie to my head, locking in my hair, pulling my face almost into his. Our noses crash together painfully, but neither of us really notices. His tongue prods at my teeth, and with a soft groan I let him in. He dominates immediately, pushing me against the wooden support, grinding his lean body down onto mine. He is shorter and smaller than me, so this strength is unexpected. But I've never been more turned on.

My face feels like it's covered in saliva, but I couldn't care less. Kenny's kisses are intoxicating, nauseating—mind-blowing earth-shattering ecstasy. And we're only at...second base.

"Fuck," I groan as Kenny's hand dives for my crotch, rubbing my growing bulge through my jeans. I grind up into his hand, wanting more, wanting all.

Kenny feels my need, and then—

It stops.

Kenny pulls away, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He stares at me with that shit-eating grin of his that I hate so much, then turns away from me, flinging his arms out to the sides. Then he leaps off the beam and dives down, down, down...

He lands in the black water with a soft splash, the spraying water glittering like diamonds in the moonlight.

His head pops out of the water and he calls up to me: "Better get naked, Tucker. Because we're fucking skinny-dipping."

TBC...


	2. Got Big Lungs That Could Kill Ur Chorus

**My Heart's Explosive**

_By AllzStar_

_Author's Note: Woooo naked time! Haha not._

_**Chapter Two – I Got Big Lungs That Could Kill Your Chorus**_

"Craig? What the fuck is this?"

I look up from my lunch tray, one eyebrow already raised. "Huh?"

Clyde grabs my wrist and pulls it toward him, turning my hand palm up. Just before the crook of my elbow is a set of marks in a crescent moon shape. Clyde looks at me expectantly. I shrug. "I dunno."

"Fuck you, you don't know," Clyde spits, jabbing a finger at the marks. "Are those _teeth _marks?"

"Nope," I respond. "No."

"Then what the fuck are they?"

"Why do you give a fuck?"

Clyde lets go of my arm and sits across from me, his arms folded stubbornly across his chest. "I don't. It's just fucking weird."

I roll my eyes and sink my teeth into my sandwich, savouring the lettuce, cheese and bacon smothered in mayonnaise. My eyes roam over the cafeteria as usual, casually observing all the idiots that populate this fucking school. The girls' table, consisting of Wendy Testaburger and her posse of dumb-as-a-post bimbos, is right in the center of the fucking cafeteria for everyone to look at. But I could hardly give a shit about that table. Right past it, on the opposite side of the cafeteria from my table, is Kenny's table.

He's not there yet, but Kyle, Stan, Cartman and Butters have are eating their usual shit lunches, probably chatting about nothing. Kyle suddenly goes red-faced and starts yelling something, but the cafeteria is too noisy to hear exactly what he's saying. Probably calling Cartman fatass or something.

"...Craig! Are you listening?"

I snap my head back to my own table, where Clyde and Token are staring at me. "Uh."

"What are you looking at?" Clyde turns around to look, and then turns back, smirking. "Ah. The girls' table."

"Um. Yeah. 'Course." Actually I was thinking that Kyle Broflovski looks really fucking cute when he blushes. But whatever. They don't need to know that.

Tweek and Jimmy arrive at the table and take their usual seats, Tweek squished up next to me as Jimmy tries to get into the seat without his crutches. I try and move away, but there's barely any room on the bench, even for my skinny ass. I fidget, stretching my legs under the table. They get so cramped under there.

"Fuck, Craig," Clyde cries as my toe hits his shin. "Keep it in your pants."

"Yeah, alright," I sneer sarcastically. "That's my toe, you moron."

"Stop kicking me," Clyde growls.

"I need to stretch my legs," I say, and awkwardly clamber out of my seat. "These tables are designed for midgets, I'm telling you."

"No, you're just a freak," Token retorts, taking in my full six feet four inches. "You've got a problem or something."

"Whatever, small-dick," I spit back before grabbing my tray and tossing its contents into the nearest trash can. I'm done with these people. They bore me to tears. "I'm out."

I stride across the cafeteria, my long legs carrying me there in half the time a normal-sized person would take. Stan sees me first, his brow furrowed in confusion. As I walk past their table I swipe my hand out and snatch Kyle's prized green hunter's hat right off his head. He cries out in surprise, and then curses me loudly. I can hear him scrambling out after me, but I'm already out the doors and halfway down the hall.

Kyle's running footsteps are enough to fuel my mean streak. I turn towards him and hold the hat above my head, stretching up as far as I can without going on my toes. Kyle stares up at me, sullen, his blue eyes blazing with rage. His cheeks are a wonderful shade of pink, right to his ears. His red hair is only kindling to his fire. "Goddamnit, Craig," he spits. "Give it back."

I only smirk slightly, looking down at him triumphantly. Kyle is barely five eight. There's no way he can reach it.

"Fuck, Craig!" Kyle yells, his fists clenching. "Give it back!"

Ah, how I love antagonizing Kyle Broflovski. He's too fiery for me to actually consider seducing him, but teasing him is just as fun and doesn't result in drama. I love pissing him off. I've been doing it since middle school. Now, in senior year, it's a wonder Kyle hasn't learned to hold his hat on his head with an elastic around his chin. Or, better yet, _leave the fucking hat at home. _It's way too small for him, and hides his delicious red curls from my hungry eyes.

"Leave him alone, Tucker."

I look over my shoulder, not weakening my position over Kyle. There's Kenny, looking exasperated yet with a sparkle of amusement in his baby browns. "Stop being a dick."

I raise both my eyebrows at him, the corner of my mouth curling. He doesn't smile. He just runs at me and jumps, his sun-browned hand snatching Kyle's hat from mine before I can react. He hands the hat to Kyle, who calls me an unprintable name and storms back to the cafeteria. Kenny turns to me. Still not smiling.

"What the fuck, man," I groan, crossing my arms. "I was having fun."

"This isn't a game, Tucker," Kenny hisses, folding his arms as well. "You're being an idiot."

"Because I like to tease people I find attractive when they're pissed?" I asked. "Why not?"

Kenny rolls his eyes and reaches to scratch the back of his neck. "Look. Just don't fuck around with my friends, okay?"

I give him a dark look. What is wrong with him? Why is he acting like this? "You sure weren't acting this pissy last night."

"Yeah, well, last night was a different story." He's looking anywhere but at me. "Let's just...go trestling again tonight, alright? We'll talk about this later." He heads into the cafeteria, leaving me alone in the hallway. I stare after him.

I can't believe this.

KKK

I check my watch again. It is now ten-thirty. Kenny's still not here.

I sip my second beer, but there's a sinking feeling in my stomach. I recall the images from last night, all jumbled and mangled but the same basic idea in them: Black water, foamy spray, blond hair, sun-browned skin looking pale in the moonlight. Slippery bodies pressed together as they fight to stay at the surface.

Nothing really happened. We just swam around. Naked. Made out a little. No big deal.

Except it _had _been a big deal. At least for me it had been. So what the hell is Kenny's problem? Why would he kiss me like that and then pretend it didn't happen the next day? He won't get away with pretending he doesn't have feelings for me, because all the proof is right here, on this very beam I'm sitting on where he shoved his tongue down my throat.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and flip it open. No messages. He's not even going to call with some excuse as to why he couldn't make it. Son of a bitch.

I toss my empty beer can into the river and snatch up the remaining four cans in the pack, stuffing them in my backpack. Then I make my way down the trestle.

There were no trains tonight, anyway.

TBC...


	3. If You Wanna Try You Better Come Inside

**My Heart's Explosive**

_By AllzStar_

_Author's Note: Writing while exhausted is never a good idea. But whatever._

_**Chapter Three – If You Wanna Try You'd Better Come Inside**_

"Are you going to Snow Fest?" Wendy asks, reaching behind her to sweep her raven hair into a ponytail. I watch her movements, her slim virgin-white arms, her smooth black hair as it whips gracefully through the purple elastic band. She looks at me, her dull brown eyes questioning. "Did you hear me?"

Her eyes aren't as nice as Kenny's. His are walnut-shaped and rimmed with curling black lashes. Hers are just...dull. Normal. Plain. She's staring at me, now. Probably wondering why I'm gawking at her like a creeper instead of answering her question. "To what?" I ask.

"Snow Fest. Are you going?"

"What's Snow Fest?"

She stares at me incredulously. "What's Snow Fest?" she repeats. "It's only the coolest event for grads! Other than prom, of course."

"Okay." Prom is stupid. "What is it?"

She huffs impatiently, as if she's disappointed in me. "The entire grad class all goes out onto the mountain to camp for three days. There's plenty of activities and just...it's awesome. My sister went and she loved it. She said it was _better _than prom."

"Doesn't sound so great to me," I say, clamping a cigarette between my lips and leaning forward to light it.

Wendy glares at me. "Smoking is a dirty habbit."

I just shrug. "So is fucking the same guy over and over again."

We're sitting in the parking lot, on the back of my pick-up truck. There are a few people milling about, but most students have gone home for the day. Wendy and I are waiting for Kenny and Stan to finish re-writing their chemistry test so we can all go home. Since I'm Kenny's ride and Wendy is Stan's; and they both suck at chemistry, it sucks for us.

Wendy and I are on pretty good terms. I mean, despite the fact that I dumped her because I realized I was gay. It's weird to think that I came out to her first, of all people. On the other hand, it doesn't really surprise me. I don't really have a best friend to come out to. I couldn't come out to Kenny, because, well, I have this _thing _for him. And apparently, he's figured it out already, anyway.

I can arrange a school assembly and come out to the entire fucking school. I really don't give a fuck what anyone says about me.

Plus, I still like girls.

I can't help but notice that Wendy's white tank top clings to her torso in all the right places. That the neckline is just low enough to see that strip of skin at the top of her breasts that's paler than the rest of her. That her denim walking shorts ride up when she sits down.

Wendy Testaburger is a beautiful girl. Sure, she's pretty much dated all the guys in our class except Butters and Tweek, but she's still pretty. And she's nice. And she's smart. If I didn't have this fucking thing about guys, I could still be dating her. And she wouldn't be back with Stan fucking Marsh. Everyone is so sick of them. It's ridiculous.

So it surprises me a little when she reads my mind. "If it's so important to you, Stan and I have never had sex."

I stare at her. This actually startled me. "What?"

"I said we've never had sex." She picks at a loose thread at the hem of her tank top. "He says he's not ready."

I scoff before I can stop myself. She glares at me, and I look at her like she's stupid. "And you believe him?"

"I hate that look on your face!" Wendy cries. "You always look at me like I'm an idiot. If you hadn't come out to me I would have dumped you just because of that expression!"

"You are an idiot," I say, my mean streak flaring up at her reaction. "You're an idiot for continuously going back to Stan Marsh. You think he's not putting out for you because he's not ready? No, it's because he's _bored_. He's probably fucked all the other girls in our class."

The slap echoes across the empty parking lot like a gunshot. Wendy's eyes are smouldering brown embers as my head rocks back, my cheek stinging mildly. I've been bitch-slapped plenty of times before, but never with such force as Wendy Testaburger just hit me with. I can see the pure rage in everything about her: her body posture, her tense muscles, her flaring eyes.

"You're a fucking asshole, Craig Tucker," she spits, scrambling to collect her backpack. "I hope you're lonely the rest of your life. It's what you deserve."

"Don't storm out all Drama Queen, Wendy," I call at her back. "You're better than that."

Wendy whirls around and flips me off. I return the favour, and then I make a circle with my index finger and thumb and put my middle finger through it. She screams angrily through her nose and stalks off into the school.

A few minutes later, Kenny comes out, loping along with his backpack drooping halfway down his thighs. He spots me and heads on over. I'm relieved to see that he's in a good mood. He chucks his backpack into the back of the truck and then hops into the cab. I get in the driver's side and turn to him.

"So you gonna tell me where the hell you were last night?"

Kenny looks at me, confused. "Huh?"

"You said we'd go trestling last night. You never showed up."

"Oh." He pauses, thinking. "I didn't think you'd actually go. There weren't any trains last night. You knew that."

"So?" I ask. "It's not all about the trains, is it?"

Kenny looks at me, a secret smile on his face. "It's about skinny dipping."

I exhale impatiently and put the truck in gear. "Fuck this. I can't explain anything to you."

"You don't try, Craig."

"Tell me what happened that night, then."

"We were drunk."

"So?"

"So crazy shit happens when we're drunk."

"You're telling me that nothing that happened was genuine? You can't tell me that. You can't tell me it didn't mean anything."

"Will it hurt you if I do?" The question is genuine, but it stings worse than Wendy's slap.

"Maybe," I growl back.

Kenny sighs. "Look. It was a mistake, Craig. I'm sorry. It didn't mean anything. To me, at least." When I say nothing, he continues. "Come on, you know me, Craig. I do inexplicable shit. It's part of who I am. It's a quirk."

I snap. "It's not fair. You don't know how hard all this is for me."

Kenny's looking at me so seriously that I can't look back at him. I keep my eyes glued on the road. "You're really gay?"

"YES, I'm fucking gay, Kenny! Jesus Christ! You're such an asshole; sometimes I fucking hate you. You know that?"

Kenny looks away, finally, and stares out the window. We don't talk again until we get to Kenny's house. He gets out of the cab; looks like he's going to say something. Instead he just says "Bye, Craig," and shuts the door. I don't stay to make sure he gets in his house. He could be locked out all night for all I care.

TBC


End file.
